


red rose, white day

by JustSomeone27



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other, Valentine's Day, White Day, lots of mentions of roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-06-02 03:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19432672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeone27/pseuds/JustSomeone27
Summary: You got Yachi this rose on this White Day, playing with its red petals as you contemplate whether to give it to her.





	red rose, white day

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the used pronouns to avoid confusion:  
> I/my/me - reader  
> You/your - Yachi
> 
> I referred Yachi in second person because this fic is inspired by a song (found in the description but please read it later)
> 
> The fic can also be gender neutral, but there are parts where it is implied for a female audience (sorry aaaa ;w; )
> 
> (y/n) - your name

Today was White Day.  
  
I got you this rose, but have not given it to you. It’s not that I was afraid you would not like it. I fiddled with the thorns and played with the petals. I would have pulled the green sepals out, but I didn’t want to make it such a waste.  
  
On Valentine’s Day, you gave me these boxes of chocolates. One box, I guessed, were the expensive ones. Just by looking at the brand name, my heart skipped beats. My breathing jarred, I never opened the box.  
  
The other box had cute designs—doodles of hearts and chibis. If you had not told me they were homemade, I would have thought them expensive as well. Ah! Such a talent…  
  
The same day, I bought the rose. _Too early,_ I realized. You would think of me strange if I give you a rose that early—that not even a day after Valentine’s and I already got you a rose.  
  
That day, I pulled out its petals.  
  
 _She loves me…  
She loves me not…  
She loves me…_  
On and on...  
—until the rose was no more.  
  
I kept the petals which told me that you loved me, kept them as my lucky charm. I held them up to this White Day.  
  
You see, I thought that maybe I should give you a rose for today. You gave me chocolates, so I should give something in return. A single rose is far too cheap for those chocolates, I only realize now.  
  
Before Valentine’s, a while back, back before I even thought about Valentine’s, I went to your place. It was one of my everyday visits. We were friends even before high school.  
  
Here, you taught me many things. Homeworks. Projects. Tests. School works went beyond school perimeters, reached homes. Many students groaned and sighed when teachers gave homework, and I would sigh—but not out of annoyance. I enjoyed having assignments because that meant going home to do homework with you.  
  
Here, you taught me how to make chocolates. You gushed about this boy in class—the one that made you manager in their club. I pulled a smile to my lips, not knowing I was pulling on my heartstrings as well. The feeling was new—ugly and green.  
  
I realized much later that you have taught me one of the most beautiful things I have ever known. One so beautiful that I could only have it once and never again, because the succeeding ones will never be the same as the first. But that would mean my heart bearing an ugly green monster demanding for it.  
  
You threw a handful of powdered sugar at me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I reached out for the nearest thing to my hand and threw it at you. They were sprinkles, not knives thankfully. Our session of making chocolates ended in a session of making your apartment colorful. We worried about the mess later on, our laughter still echoing in my mind.  
  
Valentine’s Day neared, so I got you this rose this one day.  
  
The morning of that day, we were walking to school when we passed by this flower shop with some of the reddest roses I have ever seen. I agreed, after a few tuggings at the sleeves of my jacket, to stay a few minutes to get a good look at those roses. While you were too busy looking at the flowers, I was too busy looking at the price tags. You loved the red roses the most, the reddest roses we both have ever seen. They stood out more than the other red roses. Their red glowed before the rest, the others reflecting the red of the rose as if a part of them have been painted red.  
  
The afternoon of that day, we walked home and passed by the flower shop again. The roses ever redder under the orange of the sky, I realized your face drained of color. I hadn’t asked because I wanted you to speak first. We did not go into the flower shop, and the walk home was quieter. Your mouth was shut, so I decided that at least one of us had to speak up now.  
  
“You seem quiet,” I said, trying to lighten up, but sounded a bit too teasing.  
  
You smiled, a sad smile, one that my ugly green monster knows a bit too much.  
  
“Just…” Your voice sounded like you were not smiling at all. “...worried.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“Valentine’s,” you said it like it were obvious, as if it were not in my mind earlier either.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Do you think I should give him a rose?” You were talking about Hinata, the boy you kept gushing about. That whole month, you had not mentioned him at all. Part of me was relieved that you finally said his name, but the ugly green monster chewed at the ends of my heart.  
  
“Why not?” I always encouraged you to be closer to him.  
  
You hummed. A moment of silence again.  
  
“You think he would reject you?” I knew you could not form words to say when you become nervous, so I said it for you. I could read it in your eyes.  
  
And sometimes, you were caught off guard by how much I could read your mind. We are like that always: I read your mind, you read mine, then we scare each other about how much we know each other so much and so well.  
  
“You know me more than I know myself,” you giggled.  
  
“Don’t you have some guy to give for Valentine’s?” You spoke again before I could, sounding annoyed at my indifference.  
  
I smiled, hiding the mischievousness, “I do.”  
  
Like a cat, your ears perked. “Who?”  
  
“You,” I laughed, pinching your cheeks. “Ayieee!”  
  
“Ha!” You punched my shoulder. A blush formed on your cheeks. “You wish!”  
  
I laughed again, louder to hide the bitterness, because _ha… I do wish._  
  
I went back to the flower shop after walking you home. I got you this rose and thought of giving it to you.  
  
Since then, I have been buying roses from that flower shop. Each rose was another decoration inside my room. All roses were kept in watered vases so they would not wilt.  
  
You came by my house one day, and you saw all those roses. You recognized those petals, the reddest we have ever seen.  
  
“Aw, are those for me?” You asked, a sweet pleasantry.  
  
I smiled really wide—a smile that reached my eyes. I slurred a "yes," a purr.  
  
You kissed my cheek, a gesture that many would find awkward, but neither of us did. It was a gesture, we learned, that friends in other countries would do. Your lips left a warm spot where you kissed me—I was blushing!  
  
At that moment, I did not say anything, nor did I return the gesture, afraid to take a kiss so selfishly. We may both be comfortable with each other, but I was a little bit more reserved. The local culture was conservative—it made me think none of these felt right.  
  
I saw the glint in your eyes and your raised eyebrows that you were going to question it. But you said nothing either. And I guessed that was for the better.  
  
“Ok, about this one girl in school—“ And we began our everyday school discussion.  
  
The subject of Valentine’s had also been brought up. Every girl in school has been sharing and boasting about their expensive chocolates.  
  
“You will give him chocolates?” I asked. You laughed. I figured that was a yes.  
  
“Do you have someone?” You asked, grinning.  
  
“Yes.” I grinned, wider, picking out a rose from one of my many rose vases.  
  
“Aw… That person must be lucky.”  
  
“Then you must be lucky.” I reached out the rose to you. “For you, dear.”  
  
You giggled, “Very lucky indeed, dear.” Your soft fingers touched mine when you got the rose from my hand. “A kiss?” Puffing your cheeks, you pointed at your cheek, near the corners of your lips.  
  
Tempting. Quite tempting to kiss you then and there. My lips ghosted over yours, yet I only gave a small peck on your cheek where you pointed. And I giggled, feeling the warmth from your face radiating to my lips.  
  
I pinched your cheek. “You’re so cute!”  
  
You pinched mine as well. “Squish!” And we were a fit of giggles.  
  
Everyone in school knew we were close and inseparable—too close and inseparable for their comfort. Some even were shocked when we told them we were not dating! So much so that it has become an inside joke between us two.  
  
“Ah… I love you,” you said in between giggles.  
  
And so I got you this rose, and it was finally Valentine’s Day.  
  
It was morning, and we were by the benches. The early bloom of cherry blossom trees rustled, and they fell around your small frame. Your hands were shaky as the cherry blossom petals danced around your fingers, looking like mini pink hearts. Underneath those petals, I saw a box of chocolates. Expensive. It was the branded one.  
  
 _Honmei choco_  
  
An elegant note, written so carefully and delicately with a brush in Kanji. _True feelings chocolate,_ it said. A box of chocolates given to the romantic interest.  
  
Me?  
  
Me!  
  
You were giving _me_ this box of chocolates!  
  
I felt the cherry blossom petals dance around me too. Your blonde hair swayed gently over your face, and you bit your lip, your eyes on our feet. I tucked the straying strands of hair behind your ear so I could look at you. The cherry blossoms looked dull against the red on your face. You blush too much, and I think you looked really adorable.  
  
“For…” Your voice shook. “For you…”  
  
 _For me!_  
  
I smiled, tears in my eyes. I gave you a hug, much too quickly that you yelped. I did not want to let you see the tears flowing down my face. Some of the petals that were caught in your hair also caught beads of my tears. I relished the warmth.  
  
The ugly green monster bellowed in my heart, thumped against our chests, but you probably thought that was your own violent heartbeat.  
  
“That was good,” I said. “That was good.”  
  
I wiped my tears so you would not see. “That was great!” I repeated, pulling away from the hug.  
  
“Really?” You brightened up.  
  
I nodded. “You need to sound more confident though!”  
  
“Okay okay.” You stepped back and cleared your throat. I turned away from you, patting my chest to quiet the roars of the ugly green monster in my heart. When I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turned to face you, the cherry blossoms still falling down around you.  
  
“Hey,” you hesitated.  
  
I whispered, “It’s okay.” More to myself than to you.  
  
“I need to tell you something.” Your hands lifted the box. “...Hinata-kun...”  
  
Yes, that box of expensive chocolates was not meant for me, which was why I have never opened it. I agreed to let you practice with me if that meant being the one to receive the box first, even if the box was never meant for me.  
  
At the end of the day, you walked up to me, holding another box of chocolates.  
  
Me?  
  
“(y/n)-(chan/kun)!” You said much more confidently, holding out the box. “For you!”  
  
 _For me._  
  
It was a handmade box filled with homemade chocolates.  
  
 _Giri choco_  
  
An elegant note, written so carefully and delicately with a brush in Kanji. But it meant _obligation chocolate_ instead. A platonic box of chocolates.  
  
You saw me holding a rose, the reddest rose you’ll ever see, and you smiled with your eyes closed, “Good luck on Valentine’s!”  
  
And you wished me farewell as you went off to walk with Hinata, not knowing the rose was meant for you.  
  
Today was White Day.  
  
I got you this rose, but still have not given it to you. It’s not that I was afraid you would not like it. My breathing was jarred because my heart was scarred. There was no point, really, of giving you this rose. So I pulled out those green sepals because they reminded me of the ugly green monster I hid in my heart—the monster that I desperately wanted to get rid of. The monster that said you loved someone else.  
  
The petals that I kept—the ones that told me you loved me—they were in my palms, already wilted. I pulled out the petals of the freshest rose I held, leaving the thorns. The thorns pricked my fingers. I hissed but let my blood paint the wilted petals red.  
  
I was foolish to think I have a chance with you.  
  
I still got you this rose, but soon it will wilt too.  
  
I was the first, but I acted too late. I had the chance, but I would never get another. I was too scared to let you know.  
  
 _That I love you._  
  
I got you this rose, but he did too. And mine will no longer grow.

**Author's Note:**

> yes i cant stop with the roses
> 
> no hate on hinataxyachi shippers aaaa ;D;
> 
> inspired by Shawn Mendes’ Roses: youtu.be/c36gWamjnA0  
> i also loved Lisa Bakker’s cover of the song: youtu.be/ALna1TB4sKo
> 
> Disclaimer!  
> Haikyuu belongs to Haruichi Furudate.
> 
> If you liked it, please leave a comment here and also in DeviantArt:   
> http://fav.me/dda503w


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